


Leaves From The Vine

by SassyTabris



Series: A Will, A Way, And A Ghost [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din is Paz’s brother via them both being foundlings, Din is roughly 17 and Paz is around 19-20, Fire, Gen, Happens Before The Purge Of Mandalore, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Mercy Killing, Original Character Death(s), Parent Death, Paz Vizsla needs a hug, The OC is Bes Vizsla and he’s Pre Vizslas half brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29098287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyTabris/pseuds/SassyTabris
Summary: “And how old are you two, now? Five?”“Paz might be, mentally.” Din chuckled and caught his vod’s fist in his own with practiced ease.“Shabuir.” Paz muttered and kicked at him before the ship jolted.-A mission goes horribly wrong.
Relationships: Din Djarin & OC & Paz Vizsla
Series: A Will, A Way, And A Ghost [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154216
Comments: 20
Kudos: 52





	Leaves From The Vine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place around 10 BBY, and 19 years before the beginning of The Mandalorian. 
> 
> Mando’a Translations:
> 
> Shabuir - roughly translates to ‘motherfucker’  
> Ad’ika (Adike) - little one(s), child(ren)  
> Buir - parent, father  
> Buy’ce - helmet, “bucket”  
> Beskar’gam - armor  
> Dar’vod - I kinda fused this one, tried to make it mean ‘no longer (my) brother’

“Din, are you awake?” A low rumbling voice startled Din from his fitful slumber. They must still be in hyperspace. He could feel the vibration of the engine from where he’d lied down on the floor of the ship. A large hand grabbed his shoulder and shook it gently. “Din’ika?” 

“I’m awake.” He replied, stifling a yawn as he sat himself up. The armored form kneeling beside him snorted and stood, releasing his shoulder. 

“I’m sure you are. We’re almost to Concord Dawn. I want you up in the cockpit and strapped in with Paz before I get us out of hyperspace. I don’t know what kind of shabuir are still hanging around the debris field.” Bes said. The Mandalorian looked down at him for a moment, considering, before he swatted the back of Din’s helmet. Ignoring Dins outraged squawk, Bes turned and began to climb up to the cockpit. “Come on! Let’s go!” 

Din grumbled and pulled himself to his feet. He had to admit he was a bit surprised that Paz hadn’t come down and duct taped him to the wall beforehand. With a deep sigh Din moved and followed in Bes’s footsteps, climbing up the ladder. He shuffled through the narrow hall leading to the cockpit and slid into a chair opposite his vod. 

Paz cocked his head towards him in acknowledgement, his shoulders shifting up with a hidden yawn. 

“You sleep well,  _ Din’ika _ ?” Paz managed once the yawn had passed, crooning the nickname mockingly. Din huffed and kicked his beskar-covered shin. 

“Just fine,  _ Paz’ika _ .” He replied in the same tone. Paz shifted again and Din instinctively raised both his arms to fend off an inevitable assault. 

“Boys. I know this is hard, but do you mind taking this seriously?” Bes called from the pilots seat. His gaze remained fixed on the array before him, fingers tapping insistently at a few buttons. “I swear. You’d think a lothcat raised you with how snappy you are.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Paz said petulantly and crossed his arms. “Din started it!” 

Bes turned his head to regard them. He tsked softly and shook his head before he turned back to the array. 

“And how old are you two, now? Five?”

“Paz might be, mentally.” Din chuckled and caught his vod’s fist in his own with practiced ease. 

“ _ Shabuir _ .” Paz muttered and kicked at him before the ship jolted. 

Din had never really liked the feeling of leaving hyperspace. Torn between too light and far too heavy for an instant before being thrown backwards. He was just lucky Bes had woken him up this time, and that he wasn’t hitting the other side of the cargo hold at full force. 

(He remembered when it  _ had  _ happened, just after he swore the creed and been given his buy’ce. Bes had been horrified and kept shoving bacta patches under the refresher door for Din’s broken nose, begging for forgiveness.) 

When Din finally settled again he turned to look out the cockpit window. Concord Dawn was a strange planet. Shattered and broken, surrounded by a field of asteroids made up of a good fourth of the planet itself. It was beautiful. But Din hardly envied Bes for having to actually fly them through the asteroid field down to the planetside. 

“We should be good from here, adike. Go and get outfitted now, we’ll be planetside in fifteen.” 

“Yessir,” Din and Paz replied in unison before fumbling past one another to get to the ladder first. 

Din did not feel bad about tripping his vod to win this particular battle. 

  
  


—— —— ——

  
  


Din and Paz waited outside the rendezvous point with a patience they did not truly feel. Bes could be thorough with conversation at the worst of times. When he was in a good mood, like today? They’d be here for a  _ while _ . Din sighed and checked the calibration on his blaster for what must’ve been the twentieth time in as many minutes. 

“What the hell is taking him so long?” Paz grumbled the thought Din didn’t dare voice. “It’s not like we don’t already know what we’re doing.” 

“It’s an imperial hub we’re breaking into, Paz.” Din reminded his vod quietly, “they have good security. It’s not like our last trip to Tatooine. If we mess up, the  _ least _ of our worries will be that twi’lek you pissed off coming after us.” 

Paz grunted and kicked a loose rock with the tip of his boot. “I still don’t see how that was  _ my _ fault.  _ You’re _ the one who got him to follow us into that mess in the first place!” Din smirked under his helmet and turned his head to watch the buzzing streets around them. 

Most people passing stared. This may have been a Mandalorian homeworld once, but it seemed like nowadays, no one followed the creed here. Which didn’t surprise Din. The empire had been merciless towards those who did not bend the knee, even the Mandalorians whose skills they so coveted. Any who wore the armor on this planet were bound to be among the traitors who’d laid down their creed to serve them. 

Though all who passed by appeared to be nothing more than simple civilians. For now.

Din shifted his attention back to Paz, who was still ranting on about the Tatooine debacle. 

“- And if  _ you  _ had just had an  _ inch _ of common sense, that twi would’ve never-“ 

“Are you done?” Din asked with a loud sigh. Paz glared at him. Or at least, Din was pretty sure he was getting glared at. Paz’s shoulders were usually a lot more tense when he was glaring. 

“No. Let me finish.” Din groaned and tilted his head back to stare at the asteroid-heavy sky, ready to go back to tuning Paz out before a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“No time, adike. Client wants this done before the sun rises again and our target’s got some heavy firewalls. Let’s go.” Bes said as he pushed past him, and gently knocked his shoulder against Paz’s too. 

“How many bodies?” Paz asked casually, all bitterness forgotten as he and Din fell in line a step behind their buir. 

“A company or two. Trust me, adike, it’ll be easy.” The older Mandolorian looked back over his shoulder at the both of them briefly before he returned his gaze to the path back to the ship. “We’ll have this finished and be headed home before a cycle passes… sooner the better.” 

“Is this job really that bad, then?” Din asked. Bes seemed… unsettled. His tone was nothing like the cheerful attitude he’d entered the rendezvous with. 

Bes didn’t respond until they reached the ship again. He paused by the side door and waited for his ade to climb inside. Din was only half sure he’d heard what his buir said, though it troubled him nonetheless. 

“This planet is.” 

  
  


—— —— ——

  
  


As it turned out, there was not just ‘a company or two’ of troopers at the hub. It was not ‘easy’, either.

Din wasn’t sure if it had been a lie on Bes’s part, or a lie on their clients’. It didn’t matter much right now, not when he was fighting for his life. 

He’d lost track of Paz almost five minutes ago. His vod’s communicator must’ve shorted out when one of the troopers threw a grenade at them earlier. It’d missed by a fair margin, but in doing so… well. The hub was apparently  _ very _ unstable. Whether from a fault in its engineering, or some structural fault in the ground the hub was built into, the blast had caused something of a cave-in. 

Well. That was a bit too light of a word. 

The blast had caused a chain of events leading to half the hub beginning to fold on itself. A fire had begun to spread faster than Din had thought it would, billowing acrid smoke into the air. 

Din ducked under a column of collapsed metal ceiling and rock, barely pulling himself through to the other side before another shuddering tremor ran through the hub. The way behind him was blocked in a heavy rain of material, crushing where he had stood only seconds before.

Din clenched his hands into fists, a shudder running down his spine. 

Where were the troopers? Where were his family? 

(The clanking of droids ran through his ears. Explosions and death surrounding him as his father and mother ran with him in their arms-) 

Din forced himself to his feet, and ran. His lungs burned with ash and cinder that snuck past the filter of his buy’ce. If he listened close enough he could hear screaming on the crackling air. Whether it was Imps trying to escape, or fighting his family, he didn’t know. A part of him was scared to find out. 

“ _ Buir _ !” His scream echoed ahead of him. “ _ Vod _ !” 

“Din?” A voice, tiny and  _ oh so quiet _ called from his left. Din froze and turned, eyes catching on the collapsed remains of a separate hallway. It was so hard to see through the orange glow and the haze of heat and smoke, but he could see it. Red reflecting off of a navy blue. 

“Bes,” Din quickly stepped back. “Hold on, I’m coming to get you!” He shouted again before beginning to kick and pull at the rubble blocking his way. It took far longer than he would’ve liked to carve himself a path through, and even then once he pushed himself through it he could feel metal digging into his blacks, through them, and into his flesh. When he stumbled free and finally got a look at the situation… he felt as if the ground had fallen under him again. 

Bes was trapped. No… not trapped. Pinned. Parts of the ground the hub walls had done such a shoddy job of holding up so far were piercing through him, holding him down like a stake. His armor was cracked in several places, and Din… Din could see the blood. 

“Buir,” he gulped as he scrambled to Bes’s side and gripped his arm. He had to be imagining this. He  _ had _ to. “Bes, come on, we need to go.” 

“Din-“

“Come  _ on _ !” Din hissed and began to push at the rocks and crumpled metal that had impaled the older man. His hands shook, blood already having made them slippery. How had he lost so much?! “We have to move this-,” 

“ _ Din _ ,”

“I’m trying, just!” Din stopped as he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He dropped his hands away from the amalgamate of material holding Bes down and turned to look at his buir. The other Mandalorian’s chest was rising and falling in a slow stuttering rhythm. The dark visor of his buy’ce was cracked. 

He knew a dying man when he saw one. 

“Din’ika. Look at me,” Bes ordered, his voice gentle. As if he were trying to calm a wounded bantha. As if he were not being crushed. Din moved until his knees were pressed against Bes’ side, and he pulled the other man’s hand off his shoulder to hold it tightly. “I need you to know,” Bes began to speak again, “that I could not be more proud of you. You, Paz… I love you both, you understand this?” 

“You can’t give up. There has to be some way,” Din stopped speaking as Bes squeezed his wrist through his bracer. The older Mandalorian shook his head at him. 

“You and I both know that if this doesn’t get me, the rest of this hub falling in on me will. Or the fire. Whichever comes first,” Bes sighed. He shifted as much as he could in his current situation. Even as his buir attempted to muffle it, Din heard the strangled whine of pain. “... Din. I need you to do something for me, okay?” 

“Bes...” 

“I need you to take my helmet off.” Din felt a stab of shock, shoulders bunching up as he tightened his grip on Bes’ hand. 

“But the creed-,” 

“Din’ika, I’m already dead.” Bes chuckled ruefully and winced with the movement. “Please. It’ll be Paz’s after I’m fully gone anyways.” Din knew that their beskar’gam would pass down a family line. That the eldest child would always take the armor, or failing that, the next in line. Or to the community, if there existed no foundlings. But their buy’ce… 

“I can’t. I can’t, Bes, I…” 

“I know. I know, Din’ika.” Bes sighed and reached up with his free hand. Blood smeared across the helm as Bes struggled to unclasp it, and it finally came loose with a soft hiss of air. Din shut his eyes tightly out of respect, instead leaning to touch his forehead to the back of Bes’ hand. “Din’ika. Ad’ika it’s okay, you can look.” Bes said gently. His voice sounded so different without the vocoder. Louder and a bit rougher on the edges. 

Din took a deep breath, biting back tears as he looked upon his buirs face for the first time.

Bes was blonde. Short tufts of messy blonde hair that was plastered to the warm brown skin of his forehead. There were three long scars that marred his face, particularly one that cut through his upper lip. Only two seemed to come from the same source. The third looked… almost like it had been cauterized. Din almost wanted to laugh at the hypocrisy of Bes cauterizing a wound when he had been so adamant about Paz and Din never doing it. Tired blue eyes and dark circles that almost were lost behind thick gobs of blood from where the visor had broken. 

“I shouldn’t look.” Din whispered shakily. 

“You should. If anyone is going to, I want it to be my ad’ika.” Bes smiled weakly before he looked past Din at the ceiling. “you know, I’ve taken my helmet off before. Hell, I used to only wear it on missions.” He coughed, “I loved a man who didn’t even have the decency to have someone inform me when he died. I tried to kill my own brother.  _ Did _ kill my own father.” 

Bes paused and sighed. 

“... I was a bad Mandalorian, Din. But damn if I didn’t want to be one for you and Paz.” Din shook and trembled with heavy tears as Bes continued, “I love you. Both of you. Even when you’re brats and try to kill each other for fun.” Bes closed his eyes. “I promised I’d never come back, after he died. I think I said once that if I did, it’d only be to die. I wish I’d never karking said that. You boys deserve better than this.” 

Din squeezed his hand again. He could barely see Bes through his tears. 

“You didn't know,” he managed once he managed to push through the block in his throat. “This is my fault, buir, I should’ve-,”

“Should’ve what? Jumped on a trooper’s grenade and exploded along with this structural disaster?” Bes laughed weakly. “No, Din’ika, It’s not your fault.  _ None _ of this is your fault.” 

The hub around them let out a loud groan and the metal under Din’s legs shuddered with the force of another blast rooms away. A broken gas main, maybe. Din didn’t care to know. Bes looked up at him with what Din could only describe as pity. 

“Din. Din’ika, I need you to do something for me, and I need you to promise you won’t blame yourself for it.” 

“... I’ll try.” Din said quietly. He felt so small. Small like the boy Bes had pulled out of a cellar in the midst of a battle almost a decade ago now. “What do you need me to do?” 

“I need you to take my knife and finish me.” Bes said with an eerie gentleness. Din felt the world collapse under him again. 

“I can’t. Bes, you can’t.“ 

“Please. Din’ika. I know, I know. But it will be kinder to have me go now,” Bes murmured and reached up, his bloody hand brushing against the divots of Din’s own buy’ce. “You know it would be too. I never wanted to put you in this position, Din’ika. I’m so sorry.” He whispered fervently. 

The younger Mandalorian shook his head and clenched his fists. Paz would never forgive him. ( _ ‘Is he even still alive? _ ’ A fear whispered in the back of his mind. Din shut it out. Paz was alive. He had to be.) He didn’t think he could ever forgive  _ himself _ . But.

But.

Bes was right. He was dying, and no amount of bacta would stop it. Din didn’t have enough time to pull him out intact, let alone the exuberant amount of credits it’d cost to get him to a cybernetics expert. This would… it would be faster and kinder than letting him bleed to death or be crushed. 

“I’ll do it.” Din whispered. Bes smiled at him, sad and pained. His buir pushed his knife into Din’s hands and Din did not bother to choke back the sob building in his chest. 

“You’ll be a good man, Din’ika.” Bes said. His free hand gently rested against Din’s buy’ce and almost pet the beskar. Din remembered when Bes had first taken him in as a foundling. He’d have horrible nightmares about the droids, and his buir would run an ungloved hand through his hair and sing until Din fell asleep, all nightmares forgotten under a blanket of safety and friendly touch. “I’m sorry I’ll never be able to see you grow into it.” 

The knife felt heavy in Din’s hand as he raised it. 

“I love you, Din.”

“I love you too.” Din sobbed. 

Bes had taught him well. He didn’t miss.

  
  


—— —— ——

  
  


“Din!” Paz’s shout was loud in his ears as Din stumbled from the rubble of the hub. His vod was running toward him at full speed, blue beskar’gam turned black with sticky soot and dust. He must’ve found his own way out. Din hadn’t seen a trace of him after… after. 

Paz froze a few yards from him, and Din didn’t need to see his face to know that his eyes were locked onto the cracked and broken helmet Din was cradling close to his chest. To the now dried blood that coated Din’s own helmet and both of his hands. 

“... No…” Paz whispered before charging forward. Din knew from experience not to try and fight it when Paz wrenched their buir’s buy’ce from his arms. His vod was stronger than he was. “No, no, no… Din, what  _ happened _ ?!” Paz’s hysterical shout rang heavy in Din’s ears. 

“I… I killed him.” Din said shakily. For, it was the truth. Bes had been dying, but Din had been the one to kill him. Paz snarled and Din gasped as he was grabbed by his neck, his vod’s fingers digging tightly into his throat. 

“ _ WHY _ ?!” He screamed, and Din felt tears roll down his own cheeks as sobs began to wrack his chest. 

“He was dying-,”

“You could’ve saved him?!” 

“He was  _ pinned down _ and he told me to!” Din sobbed through the grip on his throat. “Paz, I didn’t have a choice. He… he wanted me to tell you he was proud of you.” 

Paz dropped him as if he had burnt his hand and turned away. Din gasped for air, watching as Paz’s shoulders shook and he stared down at their buir’s helmet. 

“... Find your own way back to the covert, dar’vod.” Paz hissed finally, after what felt like hours. Maybe it had been. Din pulled his knees up to his chest and said nothing. 

Paz stalked back towards where Bes had parked the ship. 

The ship never took off. Paz returned almost an hour later, wearing Bes’s buy’ce—  _ his _ buy’ce, now, Din corrected himself— and wordlessly offered Din his hand. 

It wasn’t an apology. Din knew better than to expect Paz would ever forgive him for this. But it was enough to know Paz was not abandoning him. Not forever.

(Nineteen years later he would see the pile of helmets and other pieces of beskar’gam in the sewers of Nevarro. And remember how  _ he _ had been the one to abandon Paz in the end. All for his own foundling.) 

**Author's Note:**

> I will write more of Bes and his kids in happier times than this I swear.


End file.
